


we all wanna party (when the funeral ends)

by neilperrys



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Bad Parenting, Based on a Choices Story, First Kiss, Ghosts, M/M, Murder, Spirit World, Technical Time Travel, Victorian Clothing, but ill let the people decide, is it gonna be hernst? is it gonna be ernitz? i know we all fucked eleanor, its gonna be ernitz., so all i know is the plot tht would work for ernitz, yeah i know it seems irrelevant but. victorian clothing good.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-08 15:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neilperrys/pseuds/neilperrys
Summary: Ernst woke in a cold sweat, the phantom of the flames still burning on his neck. It was then he knew- he had to investigate that godforsaken manor. He had to know if ghosts were real.





	1. Chapter 1

Ernst tossed in his bed, leg twitching as the loose strings of his blanket tickled against him. He was warm, and it was pleasant. Like sitting by a fireplace on a cold day. He turned his head to the side, eyes blinking open from the foggy gaze of sleep. It was then that the heat became almost unbearable. And then there was the unmistakable sound, the sound of footsteps. Sitting straight up, he held his breath, hoping whoever it was would move on- leave him alone. The footsteps got closer, and then they stopped. The light from the hall was blocked, a shadow lingering over the threshold.

_BANG!_

On his door. 

"Leave me alone!" Ernst called out, wincing at the terror in his own voice, "I- I have- I have a knife and I will use it! But just- just go away." His voice tapered off, and he realized that if someone were there, he completely gave away the fact that he was in there. A moment of silence, and he let himself exhale. Then the bangs started again, louder an louder with each fall of the fists upon the his door. "Who _are_ you? Just go... please!"

The door broke open with the force of a marching army, wood splintering and cracking to the floor as it did, flames quickly engulfing the room as the all too familiar girl strode in. A momentarily silhouetted figure, wreathed in fire, smiled. Her hair crowned her face, though some skin was melted off, exposing muscle and bone. "Did you forget, Ernst?" Wendla- or Wendla's phantom, maybe, spoke in a calm voice, sugary sweet. Just like she had been. She drew closer, fire and smoke choking the air.

Ernst sat frozen in fear, gripping the sheets with all of his might.

"Did you forget me? Maybe, because you never told me why you _killed_ me." Wendla's voice turned sharp, dripping with venom as she stepped forward. Ernst knew it wasn't true- he didn't do it. He didn't kill Wendla, he could never, he- the flames burst from her hand as she reached forward, grasping his neck in a way meant to hurt, maybe even kill. "Your only sister." Ernst squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up. Wake up. This was a dream, this is a dream, this has to be a dream-

"Open your _eyes!_ This isn't a dream! _You_ killed me," her voice dropped to a whisper, ratty hair falling in his face, "I'm just... returning the favor,"

With a gasp, Ernst woke up, clawing at his neck in a desperate attempt to get off the flames and hands that weren't really there. "Wendla!" He yelled, voice strained and eyes teary, "Wendla, it wasn't me!" 

Unsurprisingly, no one answered. Ernst ran a hand through his hair, eyes drooping as he thought about maybe lying back down, trying to get some peaceful sleep maybe. And then his phone buzzed. It was Hanschen- his best friend in the whole world, which, honestly, wasn't saying much. He glanced at his phone, vision blurring as he tried to readjust. _Shit,_ he thought, _Coffee in ten. Shit._

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the horror from his mind, he stood up and threw on the first shirt he saw, put on decent pants, barely managed to tug on his boots, and ran, phone shoved half-heartedly into his pocket.

Half an hour and a whole ass black coffee later, Hanschen stared at him in sadness. "The dreams are getting worse, huh?" His face was ripe with pity, and were Ernst not so tired, he might slap it off.

"They're not just dreams!" Ernst stood, palms hitting the table as his face contorted into some mix of anger and sadness. Before Hanschen could even open his mouth to reply, he kept talking. "I know she's dead, I know I'm traumatized. Hell, I'm the one that identified the body when they pulled her from the car. But she- she's not at rest." He sat back down, arms folding, "She's angry. At... me, maybe."

"But, why? Why in the world would she be angry at you." Ernst looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"I don't know. But I do know that I can't take another night of this going on, Hansi. I have to go the the Stiefel house today. So can you take me, or not?"

"You want- you genuinely want, to investigate," his voice dropped and he leaned in, "The Stiefel house?" Ernst nodded, and Hanschen shook his head and sat back. "Dude, I don't even believe in ghosts, and that place freaks me out. I can't take you, especially not in the middle of winter, when it could blizzard at any time."

Ernst stayed silent, his throat starting to close as he swallowed. He needed answers. He needed to get the dreams away, he needed to help Wendla, he needed to know, he needed to know, he needed to see, he just- needed it. "Please," he mumbled, on the verge of tears, "If you won't, I'll find someone who will."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, swirling what was left of his coffee in his cup. "Don't do that, Ernst, please. If something, if anything happened to you in there, I'd... I'd never be able to forgive myself. I want to protect you, Ernst, I-" Hanschen stopped, "So, let's pretend I'm going along with this. I still don't understand what you're looking to find in that house. You don't- do you expect to find _ghosts_ there?"

"I've done my research. The Stiefel house is for real. If there's anywhere, anywhere, I can learn-" his voice cracked as he glanced down, "Anything. It's there." The silence was awkward, he could practically feel Hanschen's gaze on him. "I know how it sounds. But for Wendla's sake... I need to do this. Now. Are you going to drive me, or will I have to hitch a ride with Bobby Maler?"

"Okay, okay! You win. But I hope you know how much of a bad idea I think this is." Hanschen grimaced, shaking his head.

That afternoon, Ernst sat in the passenger seat of Hanschen's beat up car, watching the world fly past the window, his leg bouncing in nervousness. He glanced to Hanschen's solemn face, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, cheer up. It's not like you're driving me to an execution." He mumbled something in response. "Make the most of. You only live once, yolo, lol." Ernst said that out loud. With his mouth. Hanschen groaned, eyes still focused on the road.

"You're a menace, maybe this _is_ a good idea."

"Then why do you hang out with me?" 

"Out of habit, mostly. You're... one of the not-so-annoying people at this school." He shrugged, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Thanks, Hans," Ernst rolled his eyes, a small laugh leaving him, "You're... somewhat tolerable yourself."

The landscape outside changes, and Hanschen cranes his neck to get a better view through the windshield. "It's almost untouched out here... not a car or person in sight. But I'm not surprised. Who in their right mind would want to go all the way to the Stiefel house?" Hanschen laughed as Ernst rolled his eyes. "So. Tell me the story. Why is it so haunted?"

Ernst pushed back his hair, grinning, "All right, here's what happened. So, this house was built at the turn of the century for a foster family, who'd just arrived here from England. The mother, Fanny Gabor, wasn't that bad. But the father, on the other hand... not so much. By most accounts, life was fine. Until the father went off to war. And when he returned, he found the three youngest children dead from some sort of poisoning. The eldest, Moritz, had his throat slit."

"That's terrible! Why did you tell me that?" 

Ernst stared, mouth hanging slightly open. "You asked me to! Anyway, ever since then, any visitors have reported all sorts of strange occurrences happening in or around the house. If I can find out why they never passed on to... whatever happens after death, I'l be able to help Wendla find peace. And I know you think that, that, I'm being crazy or that I need to let go or whatever, but-"

"Woah!" Hanschen shook his head, "I don't think that all. I think you've been through a lot, and if.. if this is what you have to do. I'll help you. All I want is for you to be safe. Isn't that what I'm here for?" Ernst found himself with a soft smile on his face, and he ducked his head. 

After a few minutes of a comfortable silence, Hanschen took a right at the faded sign, and the road changed from smooth asphalt to a rocky gravel. At the end of the path, the Stiefel house loomed like a tornado on the horizon, it's darkened windows and boarded up doors full of a nameless foreboding. "This must be the place." Hanschen's hand found Ernst's, giving it a pat. "Be safe. Call me if you need anything." Ernst smiled at him, and got out of the car. Gawking at the houses once-majestic outside, his heart beat faster in his chest. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Ernst shook his head. "Sorry, Hans. I have to do this by myself. I'll call you when I need picked up. Please.. go." With a sigh, Hanschen drove away. Ernst shut off his phone and shoved it in the pocket of his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and beginning the trek up the stairs, and past the double doors. The steps were slick with ice, and he took special care not to slip. He pushed the dark oak doors open with all his might, just barely managing to slide in. "Here goes nothing..." 

He crossed the threshold, letting the door fall shut behind him, looking out across the damaged and disorganized foyer, worn down with the years. _I can't believe it's all still here..._ he thought, taking in the splintered furniture, the threadbare carpet, and the glittering wreckage of a fallen chandelier. Taking a long, deep breath, he shrugged off his bag and set it on the first step of the large staircase. A sudden creak of the floorboards set him off, stiffening up and whipping his head around. "Who's there?" He called out. There was no reply, only the sound of his own labored breathing and the beats of his heart. "...Never mind then." He crossed the foyer, his anxiety growing with each creak of the floor beneath him. As he circled the room, it felt like the faded portraits were gazing down at him through a lifetime's worth of dust. 

Just then, he heard a sound like feet running up the stairs, and he whirled around, bracing for an attack. "I said, who's there? Whoever it is, don't be afraid of me! I just want to talk to you."

Silence.

A shiver creeped up his spine as he noticed his bag missing from it's spot on the stairs. He looked up to where it was on the top stair. He breathed in a shaky breath, trodding towards the staircase, careful to avoid the glass scattered on the floor. At the foot of the stairs, a little tin soldier stared up at him. He looked away. The soldiers guarded every other stair, their little rifles slung over their shoulders and their eyes staring straight forward. He followed the soldier trail up to the second floor, gripping the banister as if he were afraid the stairs would fall out underneath him. At the top, his bag was surrounded by a small army of soldiers, bayonets at the ready. "What the..." he reached for his bag, eyeing them warily. "Please don't come to life and stab me."

Behind him, a small voice, presumably a female's piped up.

"What are you so scared of? They're just toys!"

Then, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ernst came to, he was vaguely aware of a heavy blanket around him. For a hazy moment, he wondered who's bed he woke up in this time, and for a scarier moment, he almost thought it was Melchior Gabor's. 

Then the memory of the past hours hit him like a bus.

He sat up, head twisting around in search of an exit. A window- he could break through, but it was too high up for him to go through without dying. A door, with a knob that looked shiny enough to have been polished yesterday. Ernst glanced down at the intricately woven blanket, then to the shiny knob, then to the unbroken window and the fresh snow outside. And it didn't make any sense at all. If the house had been built so long ago, and empty for so long, why was everything in such good condition. Hopping out from the bed, he padded to the door, softly and quietly, as if he were afraid. The second he reached for the knob, he heard it turn.

The bedroom door creaked open, Ernst's heart jumping from his stomach to his throat. The door opened to reveal a young man no older than he must've been, dressed in the fashions of an era far gone, his dark eyes fixed on Ernst. "Don't be afraid, Ernst," his voice was soft, and it could've soothed Ernst's nerves anywhere else, "I don't mean you any harm. I suppose you're wondering who I am and how I know your name, huh?" His dark eyes glinted with a hint of a smile, and Ernst couldn't help but return it. "Welcome to the manor, my name is Moritz Stiefel, and-"

Ernst jumped back, hands in front of him as if for defense " _You're_ Moritz Stiefel? As in, as in- as in _that_ Moritz Stiefel?" The young man- Moritz, Ernst corrected himself -grimaced. "Ah, shit, I didn't mean it like that, I-"

"Yes, I am. And you must have at least a thousand questions right now... I'll answer the best I can. But I must ask you be patient with me. There's still much that I, myself, don't understand about this damn place, this- this existence," his eyes flicked to the ground, then back to Ernst, "But I'll answer as much as I can."

"Where am I?"

"The manor, of course," Moritz cracked a grin.

"Okay, thanks then. _When_ am I?"

"That's a better question, but, it's altogether more difficult. I know that, in your world or realm, this place is nothing more than a shadow of itself."

Ernst held up a hand for silence. "My world? What do you mean? We're like, not on Earth?"

Moritz stood in front of him, laughing a short laugh at the question. "We're on Earth, yes. But... more of a memory of this place. Everything kept moving, and we just stayed the same here. No more on this. What else?"

"What are you?"

"Well, that's incredibly rude!" Moritz exclaimed, a slight twinkle in his eyes that made Ernst's heart flutter- wait. That's not right. Is that necrophilia? "To you, I suppose I'm a ghost, however, I don't really feel like one."

Tilting his head and crossing his arms, Ernst asked, "So what do you feel like then?" Moritz's face fell, and he gave a half-hearted shrug.

"The same as you do, except that something's missing, like I've taken a wrong turn in life, lost maybe," He took Ernst's hand and pressed it to his chest, where no heartbeat could be felt. "See?"

His face threatening to burn, he dropped his hand, taking a gulp of air and rocking on his heels. "How did I get here?"

Moritz shook his head, shaggy curls falling in his eyes, "About that... my little sister, Greta must've given you a scare, you fell and bumped your head. She's really a prankster, so be careful. I carried you upstairs and put you to bed, I really hope you don't mind," he averted his eyes, as if suddenly embarrassed, "And- and if you do mind I'm really sorry I just- I mean you fell and I panicked but-"

"No! No, I don't mind at all!" Ernst quickly waved his hands and shook his head, "Wait, you-" his eyes swept over Moritz's body, from the slightly oversized jacket to the deep circles under his eyes, "You carried me?"

"Yes? I'm not as fragile as I look, Ernst! Anyway, it's my turn to ask you a question. You got three, I at least get a couple." He stood straighter, arms crossed as Ernst nodded. "To start off, why are you here? People come to investigate, of course, but none alone."

Might as well tell the truth, he thought with a shrug, "I wanted to know more about life after death. No, I need to learn everything I can about- about ghosts."

Moritz's eyes widened a bit, gaping at him. "So, you're not afraid to be here? You- you wanted to be here? You wanted to meet me and my siblings?" Ernst nodded with another shrug. Moritz fiddled with the buttons of his coat, neatly pressed and sewn tightly on his small frame, "Why, may I ask?"

Ernst looked to the window, looking across the grounds, eyes fixating on the phantom of a figure in the distance, hidden among the trees as he suppressed a shiver. "It's complicated." As he peered through the window, the figure gained form among the trees on the edges of the property, snow caught in dark curls, a pink dress ripped from the trees and her death. "Wendla!" he jumped back, toppling into Moritz and sending them both tumbling to the ground. "Oof! I'm sorry-!" Wendla's ghost faded into the tree, leaving Ernst staring at the bar expanse of white snow. Both of the boys stood, and as Moritz stood beside Ernst, a hand found his shoulder.

"No need, I understand. You've been haunted for long, way before you ever decided to set foot in this place."

"Moritz..." Ernst turned, taking a shaky breath, "This is it, this is why I need to know more about you, about your world. About anything to do with it. Otherwise, I'll never-" his breath caught in his throat, and he stiffened up, "I'll never be able to help my sister. Just, let me stay here, please. I promise I'll cause no trouble, I'll do whatever, help out with chores or anything." A frown creased Moritz's forehead and eyebrows, face scrunched in thought. And then he smiled, offering a hand for Ernst to take, as if saying "come with me." What was Ernst supposed to do- reject it? So he took his hand, and was led out of the room.

Ernst hurried to catch up to Moritz as he strode out of the room and into the hall, "So- so are you letting me stay with you?"

"Of course!" Moritz shot a soft grin back to him, "We never get any visitors anymore, and it would be nice to have some company and help around here." Ernst returned the grin as he was led into the second floor landing of the foyer, gasping at the sight of the familiar room, restored to it's beautiful former glory. 

"What was it like growing up in such a beautiful place?"

"For that question, you'll have to ask Greta. I didn't grow up here, we left England when I was fifteen, and I'm twenty one now, so," Moritz shrugged, "It was hard, and I certainly threw more tantrums that I should have. My father used to say- America is the home of freedom! He told me I'd like it here, or I could go back to Europe all by myself. He almost kicked me out a couple times- but eventually, I came to like it here. Somehow. Still, I'd have loved to see my grandparents again before..." Moritz trailed off, turning away with a beckoning hand to continue down the long staircase. "But, let's not talk about that!" Ernst went to apologize, but Moritz waved a hand in his direction.

A crash sounded from below them, and Ernst jumped, nearly falling off the staircase again. "What was that?" he asked.

Moritz's voice was sharp, face pained, "Nothing for you to worry about. You can meet the rest of the family soon," he changed the subject swiftly, "but there's something you need to know first. Unlike me, none of my siblings are aware that they're- well.. dead."

Ernst blinked. "But how do you know? Why don't you tell them?"

"Why don't I tell them? How can you ask such a thing! Wait, I shouldn't yell, my apologies. But, you can't imagine what it's like... to live with the knowledge that you're not really living at all. Trust me, Ernst, ignorance for that is bliss, and I wouldn't dream of taking that away from my siblings," Moritz paused, shaking his head, "As for how I know... I'd rather not say. I'm sorry, Ernst. It's just, far too painful to say. You're more than welcome to stay, but don't say anything to the children that you even think may upset or anger them. Don't talk about where you're from, or how the world is beyond this manor. Let them be them, that's all I ask." He turned with pleading eyes, lips falling into a pout. "Please."

"All right, Moritz. I won't say a thing. I promise."

Moritz lit back up, back straightening, "We'll need an explanation for who you are and why you're here... I can introduce you as their new nanny- do you have any experience as one?"

"Uh." Ernst stopped to think, and with a half hearted smile, he responded. "I did some babysitting in high school, if that counts?"

"Perfect! Greta is the only one who needs watching, Melitta and Georg are so close in age to each other, sixteen and seventeen, they don't need anything. Greta's only ten. They're in the parlor, taking dinner I suppose. But... it would be better if you were wearing, well, something more- timely."

Ernst looked down at his frayed jeans and flowered and paint-stained sweater, nodding.

"Nothing is wrong with what you're wearing- don't worry! It's very pretty, it's just that-" 

He was cut off with a small, playful grin from Ernst, "Did you say that I was pretty?"

Moritz's eyes went wide, and his cheeks burned quickly, "I said your clothes were pretty, but I didn't say-"

"You don't think I'm pretty?"

"I didn't say that either, I-! Sorry, it's, it's, it's just been ages since-"

"Since?"

A smile tugged at Moritz's lips as he must've figured out that Ernst was teasing him. "Never mind, let's just find you something more... suitable. You look to wear my size, I must have something..." he trailed off in thought as he started back up the stairs with no warning, Ernst following closely behind back to the bedroom. Moritz made a beeline to the wardrobe, pushing through it with vigor. He clicked his tongue, tossing a deep blue coat and pants to Ernst, following with a white button up. "Get changed. I'll give you privacy." 

Apparently, Moritz's version of privacy was simply turning away from him as Ernst got himself undressed and redressed. When he was done, Moritz turned, a smile lifting his face. "You look perfect. It- it suits you. Are you ready to meet my siblings?"

"Yes. I think I am. Lead the way, dear sir." Moritz laughed at that, starting back to the stairs and down, taking a sharp right into the parlor, where the three others sit. Ernst recognized Greta immediately from hours before, and she turned his head to sheepishly avoid his eyes.

"Greta, Melitta, Georg, this is-"

"We know who he is! He's just like Greta said!" the middle girl- Melitta -piped up with a clap of her hands. "What a beautiful coat!" Ernst smiled gently, with somewhat of a curtsy. Georg narrowed his eyes, as if suspicious.

"We haven't had a visitor in ages," Georg scoffed, adjusting his glasses. "Who are you, exactly?"

"This is Ernst. He's your new nanny-" Georg half-screeched in outrage, proclaiming he was seventeen- _fucking_ -years old, and Moritz glared before continuing. "And I expect you to treat him with respect. Georg."

"Hey hey hey," Ernst started to Georg, ready to defend himself. "Aren't you going to give me a try, at least? Maybe we'll end up best friends, you never know." Georg scoffed again- that must be his favorite thing to do.

"Georg! Ernst, excuse my brothers lack of manners. I, for one, am excited to have a new friend to talk to!" Melitta intervened, a smile on her face.

"Yeah, and Moritz is more like our father than our friend!" Greta finished, a bright grin on her face.

Moritz sighed heavily. "Wonderful, Greta. Thank you. You can see why I need a break, Ernst."

Ernst flicked his hand with a laugh, "Oh, nonsense! This will be fun. I can't wait to know them better," he paused, fingers brushing over Moritz's hand, "And you, as well."

"Yes, yes. The three of you, go to bed." Moritz started, obviously flustered from even the slightest touch. Greta groaned, and Moritz relaxed, his stern facade giving into a smile. "Ernst, will you help me fix up some apple cider for them before they have their extra minutes to stay up?" Ernst nodded with a matching smile.

A short while later, he and Moritz brought mugs into the parlor, distributing them before settling down next to each other with their own. "Thank you, Ernst!" Greta grinned, and Ernst couldn't help but smile fondly at her. Upon receiving his, Georg just grumbled.

"Moritz? Why don't we have cocoa ever? I remember when Mother and Father would make us hot cocoa in the evenings, and we'd stay up all night, and-" Melitta rambled, and Moritz's eyes were sad.

"Ernst, let me put them to bed. I know you've had quite the busy day." Expertly avoiding the conversation, Moritz stood, ushering the other three away. When he returned, his voice was a whisper. "There's one last thing I have to tell you, Ernst. Whatever you think you hear, you are never to leave your room after dark." His face was hard. "Understand?" Ernst nodded, and his face softened. "I knew I could trust you. Goodnight, Ernst." After contemplating for a moment, Ernst leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Moritz's cheek, whispering a goodnight in response.

Not long after, Ernst tossed in the bed, eyes scanning the room for anything to focus on, and finding nothing. As he lied in the darkness, he was startled out of his thoughts by a curious noise- like someone crying, or perhaps wailing was a better term for it. He strained his ears, catching the sound again. A low, mournful wail that seemed to echo from the walls. Ernst kicked out of bed, stopping before the door. Moritz had said not to leave the room after dark- but if someone was in trouble... Ernst knelt to the ground, peering through the keyhole to see the entirely empty hall. Shrugging, he stood up and turned the knob silently, slipping out of the room. He let the door shut softly behind him, following the sound through the twisting halls, down the stairs to the foyer, and deeper down into the house than he thought possible. At long last, he came to a long, dark hallway, ending in a single, solitary door, covered in rusty locks and bound in iron. Ernst drew closer, listening to the sounds of the weeping beyond.

Moving in a trance, he pressed his ear to the door, right as whatever it was howled, as if wounded. "Is.. anyone in there?" he asked, nervous. The cries quieted, followed by an unnerving silence that felt as if all air had been sucked from the house. Then, the door exploded into flames. Ernst jumped back, collapsing on the ground and frantically trying to move away, but it felt as if the door was still just in front of him. A hand slid through the bottom, yanking at his ankle. 

Ernst screamed and kicked, but the grip didn't loosen.


End file.
